Pocket Dimension
You take the Tardis out of your pocket.
You put information in repeating:
when I reverse thermodynamics
with tachyons, everything will
return to my grasp, the glass
reforming on contact w/
the ground.
What is released is no
- thing: a scrunched up Qantas
email receipt repeating: Hello- our flight s th
27th, your eat is 4- d, a wind sea
- t. Nothing keeps coming
back to you.
Sci-fi writers, you
ask— wearing your big, black
Marks & Spencer coat, pocket fabric
full of plot-holes, like space-time— where
did your New Order concert tickets disappear to? When did
you stop registering the 2 pound coins
in the lining? Did they go to your past/future/
etc? You visit a Dymocks,
hide the ticket behind a shelf, wonder what
does this ticket resemble/ re-
assemble?
Written by Jocelyn Deane
Read by Ez Kenworthy